A King's Change In Time
by Mathelar
Summary: A King always has difficult decisions to make, ones filled with bias from his people's and allies views. But what if, a king starts putting some thought on a supposed crazy thesis by an ally of his?


"We've received reports that the orcs are regrouping."

It was one word that in that entire sentence that told of a burden he carried, a simple word that told held generations upon generations of history for both humanity and his own people. One that kept him awake throughout the nights, memories of witnessing the massacre and carnage left in their wake more than a decade ago.

"Certainly the recent attacks against the internment camps are evidence enough."

"Agreed, the Horde IS on the move!"

"This is absurd. My nation will not stand by and watch as the Horde masses on our very doorstep!"

He started to gently rub his forehead, driving away any possible headaches this gathering would bring to him, letting out a sigh that was drowned out by the bickering of the politicians on their balconies, overlooking his throne room. He gently shifted himself, more comfortable than he was earlier as he did his best in hearing the pleas and warnings from the ambassadors about the recent upsurge from the orcs.

He leaned to the right of his throne, propping up his right arm on the throne's arm before he rested his head on his fist, his gaze on the room's elaborate and polished floor as he went over what he knew.

For he knew well enough to never trust the bias that oozed from reports and knew that the group of orcs attacking the internment camps were…different than the rest, if the reports about the separate and independent bands of blood thirsty and savage orcs were to be trusted. Naturally, to hear about an entirely different band of orcs appear and only attacking the internment camps bothered him.

He had indeed read the missive that the Archmage Antonidas had sent to him regarding the orcs in the internment camps, about their speculated demonic influence and the highly noted and reported lethargy which was explained due to a long-term withdrawal to the volatile warlock magics they once implemented in their arsenal. Antonidas proposed to cure the orcs of their lethargy, which was to be followed by a mass campaign of reformation of their peoples.

He idly amused the thought of helping the orcs and their race redeem themselves in the eyes of the Alliance and of his people, he couldn't help but admit that the idea did indeed had potential for success if given enough backing within the alliance, and he did know that there would be massive hurdles to be overcome should such a plan ever be implemented or tried. The hurdles would probably come from a good half of the alliance, and he did not doubt that parts of his own people and the orcs themselves would play a part in those hurdles.

"The orcs are not our primary concern here. How many times must I repeat myself?"

"King Terenas, you must heed my warning. This plague that has gripped the northlands could have dire ramifications."

As soon as the ambassador from the Kirin Tor of Dalaran spoke, a shadow passed over him, a bird-like shadow. He turned his gaze upwards and saw a raven circling inside his throne room, his features creased in a frown as he stared at the raven, landing in the middle of the room atop his kingdom's symbol.

He caught the end of the ambassador's solution and countered, "I will not institute quarantine without proof of your claims, ambassador. The people of Lordaeron have suffered enough without becoming prisoners in their own land."

Within seconds of having said his piece towards the ambassador, he rested his gaze towards the raven. Awe appeared in his face as he saw the raven slowly transform from an avian bird to a hooded human, dressed as an eccentric mage with a fixation on ravens, holding a gnarled and sturdy looking staff.

"Yet, prisoners they are, good King."

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" he asked the hooded mage who ignored him, "Humanity is in peril, the tides of darkness have come again, and the whole world is poised upon the brink of war," pleaded the man as one of the ambassadors scoffed, "Enough of this! Guards, remove this madman."

"Hear me! The only hope for your people is to travel west, to the forgotten lands of Kalimdor," begged the mage as he was slowly being dragged towards the throne room's entrance. "Travel west? Are you mad?" yelled another ambassador.

Normally, he would have dismissed such a claim. Normally, he wouldn't have amused Antonidas' theory to the point where he, himself, liked the idea of redeeming and hopefully gaining another ally. Albeit, one they defeated in the past two wars. Whilst he did indeed once upon a time, have hatred for the orcs and their past massacres and terrifying deeds, it changed through time.

Simply put, he was tired, and it was time he started being proactive in such matters instead of being reactive. "Hold ambassador," he said as the guards stopped dragging the mage away, the throne room becoming quiet as the king of Lordaeron, King Terenas Menethil II, stood from his throne and walked towards the mage.

"I don't know who you are or what you believe in, but this is not the time for rambling prophets scaring our people. Our lands ARE beset by conflict…Conflict that could have been avoided," admitted the King as he stood in front of the mage. "Tell me, prophet. What have you seen that has you come to my throne room, pleading for us to travel west to this forgotten land of...Kalimdor?"

The mage's face held relief at being heard for only a second before it was quickly taken over by a flinty seriousness that he remembered seeing in various faces, decades ago when he was fairly younger from now. "Hear me and take heed, good King. The remnants of the past scar the land, which is besieged once again by conflict, which you've said that could have been avoided. Heroes will arise to challenge fate, and lead their brethren to battle," said the mage, captivating the throne room with his voice as he continued, "As mortal armies rush blindly towards their doom as they cling to their old hatreds, the Burning Shadow comes to consume us all."

The mage kneeled in front of the King, "Please. Take heed, good King. You must rally the Alliance and travel west, to the forgotten lands of Kalimdor. This is where humanity's only hope lies," the mage said before bowing his head. Again, normally he could have dismissed such a claim but not after seeing that flinty seriousness in the mage's features.

"We have much to discuss, Prophet."


End file.
